


Live or Die

by BasementVampire



Category: My Chemical Romance, Saw (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Gore, Horror, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Saw AU, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-29 00:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasementVampire/pseuds/BasementVampire
Summary: Gerard and Frank wake up only to find themselves in one of Jigsaw's infamous traps. Will they have what it takes to make it out alive...?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god hi. So, this is a little different from what I normally do. This is going to be a multichaptered fic and may or may not have smut, I'm undecided as of now. But anyway, I was really inspired to write this; as you may or may not know, I am a little obsessed with Saw ;)  
> Of course, warning for gore and torture. You know, the usual.
> 
> Enjoy!

Gerard thought it was just another hangover when he woke up with his head aching. Groaning, he glanced around blearily and wondered why he was sitting up—he couldn’t remember going to sleep the night before, but he’d been at home so he should have been in his bed. When his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room, Gerard was startled to notice that he wasn’t in a place he recognized at all; he was on a chair in the middle of an otherwise empty room.

“Hello?” he said groggily, rubbing his eyes. There was a noise from the other side of the room, and Gerard turned.

“Wha’?” came a muffled reply. Sitting in another chair was a small figure, who raised their head and looked around.

Gerard frowned when the person met his eyes; it was his boyfriend. “Frank?” he asked, pushing himself up off the chair and walking to where the other man sat.

“Gee? The hell’s goin’ on?”

Gerard’s eyes flicked around the room nervously. “I dunno.”

Frank, energetic as always, hopped out of his chair and began searching the room. “Hey!” he called after a moment. “Look at this.”

Hanging in front of the door were two tape recorders, each attached to the ceiling by a wire. Frank uncoiled one a turned it over in his hands.

“Fuck,” he whispered, turning to Gerard, who was now at his side. “Look.”

Gerard took the tape from him and inspected it. His heart dropped when he saw what was scrawled on the back in Sharpie—it was his name. Under that were the words ‘Play me.’

“Oh god,” Gerard breathed, starting to hyperventilate. “Oh my god, you don’t think it’s…?”

Without replying, Frank snatched the other tape from in front of them. “Yeah,” he said despairingly. He showed the tape in his hand to Gerard. “This one says ‘Frank.’”

Gerard whimpered. “No. Oh god, no…”

Swallowing hard, Frank pressed play on his tape. A low, gravelly voice began speaking.

“Hello, Frank. I want to play a game… You spend your time getting into fights with strangers. You use violence to compensate for your insecurities and make no effort to control your temper, even when it causes those around you harm. Today you will be tested. Will you be able to hurt someone you love, in order to be reborn? Live or die—the choice is yours.”

Gerard thought he was about to puke. “Frankie,” he moaned, “I’m scared.”

Frank glared up at him, teeth gritted. “Play your tape,” he demanded.

Reluctantly, Gerard pressed play on his tape, breath hitching with the tears he was holding back.

“Rise and shine, Gerard,” the recorded voice mocked. “For years, you’ve wasted your life as an addict. You squander your creative talents and instead spend your time ignoring those you love in favor of alcohol and drugs. Today, your passive attitude will be put to the test; will you be able to sit by and allow yourself to be broken down in order to find your will to live?”

There was a moment of choked silence before Frank threw his tape recorder against the wall. “Fuck!” he screamed. “This is bullshit! I mean, this guy thinks he’s helping us by putting us in one of his fucking torture traps? Why doesn’t he send you to fucking rehab? Sign me up for some anger management classes? But no, this is his idea of helping people?”

Gerard reached out to grab the other man’s arm. “Frankie, please,” he begged. “Calm down, please, we have to figure this out.”

Frank wrenched his arm away, pacing back and forth. “Figure what out, Gerard?” he growled. “We’re in one of Jigsaw’s motherfucking games. There’s no figuring this out. We’re either gonna die or end up mutilating ourselves or some shit. There’s nothing to fucking figure out!”

“Frank!” Gerard screamed desperately. “Get it together—we have to play his game if we want to live. Now we can either sit in here and starve to death, or we can go through that door and find out what the _fuck_ we have to do to make it out of here.”

Frank stared at his boyfriend, looking like he’d been slapped in the face. Finally, he said, “Okay. Okay, let’s do it, then.”

“Frank?”

“Yes?” he said softly.

Gerard sniffled, pulling Frank into a tight hug. “I love you, okay? Whatever happens, I love you. Always.”

Frank’s tough façade faltered and he kissed the other man with all the desperation of what might be their last kiss. “I love you, too,” he whispered back. “Always. Now let’s fucking do this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard and Frank are faced with their test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O.o

When Gerard swung the door open, it seemed to set something off. On the other side of the dark room they had entered, a television crackled to life and a grainy image of a red-eyed ventriloquist dummy appeared. “I wanna play a game,” said the same distorted voice from the tapes. Shutting the door behind them, Gerard and Frank listened as the puppet instructed them. “Today, you will both find that aspect of the human character that so many of us have unfortunately lost—the will to live.

“There is currently a nerve gas being pumped into this building. In two hours, you will be completely incapacitated. In two minutes, the door to the outside will lock forever, leaving you trapped here and left to die. In order to unlock the door, you must retrieve the key. Here’s a hint…” The image on the screen changed, showing low-quality but unmistakably identifiable footage of Gerard lying on an operating table. Someone in a lab coat was stitching his side shut.

Gerard drew in a sharp breath. Pulling up his shirt, he found a wound on his side, stitched cleanly.

“Don’t worry—removal of the key will not be fatal,” continued the voice. “But it will hurt. Using the scalpel on the table to your left, you must remove the key and free yourselves in two minutes. Otherwise, you will be locked inside permanently. Live or die—make your choice. Your time starts now.”

With a _beep_ , a timer on the wall above the TV began counting down in blinding red numbers.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Frank cried. “What the fuck?”

Starting to cry, Gerard begged, “Please, Frank please. You have to. I don’t wanna die.”

Frank looked at him with a horrified expression, silently pleading to not be forced to do what Jigsaw had commanded. “Gee…”

“Frank, please!” Gerard shrieked. “I can’t do it myself! Come on, time is running out!”

With an anxious glance at the timer, Frank darted over to a metal table, the only other furnishing in the room. On it was a single, clean scalpel, which he snatched before returning to Gerard. “I’m so sorry…” he said shakily.

Gerard squeezed his eyes shut, holding up the side of his shirt to give his boyfriend better access. “Just fucking hurry,” he whispered, on the verge of fainting.

Kneeling next to him and taking a deep breath, Frank held the scalpel to the wound on Gerard’s side, hand trembling slightly. Then, steeling himself and gritting his teeth, Frank pressed the blade into Gerard’s skin, dragging it down the length of the stitches and slicing him open.

Gerard screamed, grabbing Frank’s shoulders in a bruising grip. The pained noises he kept making almost drove Frank crazy as he stuck his fingers into the wound and felt around, desperately searching for the key.

Legs shaking, Gerard sobbed and shrieked. The pain was agonizing, buzzing through his body and threatening to make him black out. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Frank drew back his hand, soaked in blood and grasping a small key.

Gerard moaned in pain, sinking to the ground as Frank raced to the door. He fumbled with the wet, slippery key, glancing back at the clock—half a minute. Panting, Frank managed to unlock the door before grabbing Gerard by the arm and yanking him to his feet.

“Come on!” Frank gasped. “We gotta get the fuck out of here!”

Gerard stumbled after him and the two managed to make it out the door with seconds to spare. Just after they exited, it slammed shut and a loud _click_ alerted them that it had been locked.

“We did it?” Gerard slurred, falling into Frank’s side.

Hardly realizing he was crying himself, Frank nodded and guided the other man down the hall. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we made it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may add more to this, about what happens to them after. Thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game continues.

“What the fuck is this?”

At the end of the hallway, Gerard and Frank had found another door. Unlocked, they stepped through it, expecting to find sunlight and freedom. The room they were now in was anything but.

“God damn it,” Frank growled as his eyes darted around the room. “We did it. We passed the fucking test, Jigsaw!”

“There’s more?” Gerard asked quietly, leaning heavily against the other man.

Frank led him to the other side of the small room, where they found a wooden table with two syringes lying on it. Along with them was a tape recorder.

Frank pushed the play button angrily, and that gravelly voice greeted them once again. “Hello Gerard. These needles should be familiar to you—in the last few months, you’ve traded out pills and cocaine for the more dangerous alternative of heroin. So now, you will have the chance to inject yourself with something that will save your life, instead of endanger it.

“One of these syringes contains the antidote to the nerve gas currently filling your lungs. The other contains hydrofluoric acid, which, when injected into the body, will result in an excruciatingly painful death. In order to move on, you must choose one of these. I have left you a hint—look carefully.”

The tape clicked off and Gerard stared down at the needles. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Frank spat, slamming his hand down on the table. “This is so fucking messed up.”

Though his head was spinning, Gerard grabbed the two syringes and inspected them, searching for the clue Jigsaw was talking about. What he found was that both had a number written on them—the first read ‘152’ and the second ‘1914.’

“Oh,” Gerard breathed, barely audible. “I think I know which one I’m supposed to use.”

Frank looked back and forth between his boyfriend and the needles. “Are you sure? What if you do the wrong one? Gee, this is fucking insane…”

Gerard groaned dully at the pain in his side, but said, “January 9th, 2014. 1-9-14. That’s—that’s when it happened.”

“When _what_ happened?”

Gerard swayed on his feet a bit and leaned forward to catch himself on the table. Breathing shallowly, he explained, “What made me start doing drugs. My—my ex, he…he hurt me real bad. Raped me.”

Frank’s heart dropped. “Oh, fuck. Gee, I—I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Gerard asked sarcastically. “Because I got raped and I couldn’t cope with the pain so I blocked it all out with drugs. That’s what I’m getting punished for?”

“This isn’t fucking fair,” Frank hissed.

Gerard shrugged, dropping one syringe on the table and inspecting what he thought to be the correct one. “Okay,” he muttered. “Here goes.”

With a deep breath, Gerard stuck the needle into his arm, grimacing as he waited for something terrible to happen. After a moment, Gerard gave a breathy laugh, realizing he wasn’t dying gruesomely.

“Oh my god,” he sighed. “Fuck, I got it right.”

Frank’s smile of relief was interrupted by a violent cough that doubled him over. Blood sprayed from his mouth and onto the concrete floor as Gerard watched in horror.

“Frankie,” he whimpered, “what’s going on? Oh fuck, is this ‘cause of the gas?”

Frank wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Probably.”

He straightened and made his way to the door, which unlocked the moment he reached for the handle. “Fuck, that’s creepy,” he whispered.

“You think he’s watching us?” Gerard asked uneasily.

Frank looked up at the other man and fixed him with a cold stare. “Of course he is.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading~~
> 
> leave a comment and let me know what you think! as always, I'm happy to take requests c:
> 
>  
> 
> ~~follow me on IG @basment.vampire or Twitter @BasemntVampire~~


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